Guess Who's Coming To Dinner?
by Eesa
Summary: Short stories about the characters from Soul Eater, eating dinner. Rather self-explanatory.    Ch. 2- Maka and Soul's House, or Soul wants a Satchel
1. Chapter 1

I decided to write a longer, chapter-formatted story, rather than my usual one-shot! I'll update weekly. There are references to my story, "Like a Boss," in this chapter.

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><p>The dining room was silent.<p>

Death sat at one end. Kid sat at the other.

Liz and Patty sat awkwardly in the middle.

"This is fun!" Death said cheerfully. "We should do it more often!"

Liz had never wanted to do anything less in her whole life. In fact, she would rather return to the streets, homeless, than sit through another dinner like this.

Patty was slowly shaping her mashed potatoes into a vaguely human-looking face. She then proceeded to stab her knife into the eye socket, and twist it.

"The weather is getting warm, huh?" Liz tried to keep the conversation flowing.

"The weather is the same. The weather is always the same." Kid stated blandly.

"Well, the sun seemed more cheerful than normal." She was grasping at straws.

"Father, I meant to ask you. Why is our sun creepy, and mutated? I'm pretty sure the sun isn't supposed to be like that. And the moon is homicidal."

Death was humming 'Tiptoe through the Tulips' and looking towards the ceiling. Apparently, he had not heard.

Kid sighed and resumed poking at his chicken.

"Lord Death, aren't you hungry? You're not eating anything!" Liz said desperately.

"Oh, I can't eat food. No siree, no food for me!" Death chuckled.

"Then… why did you ask us to have dinner with you? And why do you have a plate of food?"

Death slowly tilted his head to the right. His eye holes stared at Liz.

Liz gulped and looked down.

Good god, I've never felt more awkward. Please let Black Star swing down from the chandelier. Please let Maka knock me out with a book. Please-

"Here's a good poem Spirit told me the other day!" Death cried jovially. "There once was a man from Nantucket-"

"HEY KID!" Liz yelled, trying anything to divert attention away from lewd the poem. "I THINK-"

"-Whose-"

"-THAT YOUR"

"-Was so long-"

"-BROCOLI-"

"-He could-"

"-IS LOOKING A-"

"-If my ear was a-"

" -BIT ASYMETRICAL!"

"-It! Why, Liz, what's all the commotion about? I don't think anyone could hear my lovely poem!"

"I heard it," Patty said ominously.

Liz blanched.

Meanwhile, a thin trickle of blood had begun to flow from Kid's nostril. He regarded the broccoli lying on his plate. He reached out and grabbed his knife jerkily.

"The left side… is looking a little fuller… than the right side. But I must count each individual sprout to be certain, of course." He muttered.

"Why, Liz, I do believe you've broken my son."

"Believe me, he was broken before Patty and I met him," Liz mumbled under her breath.

Again, Death's head cocked to the right, eyeholes narrowed. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Oh, Liz said that Kid-" Patti began.

Liz clapped a hand over her mouth.

"I said that you're looking much trimmer, Lord Death! Have you been working out lately?"

Death clapped his hands together with glee. "Why yes, I have! So kind of you to notice! I've been working on my leg, recently. The secret is not to try to lose the weight, but to tone the muscles that are already there."

Liz nodded feverently.

"Mmph," Patty said. Liz's hand was still clamped over her mouth.

"You know, a lot of people think that cardio is the key to losing weight. The secret is weightlifting! I read so in a Seventeen magazine. "

Liz nodded harder.

"I'm so ready to hit the beach!" Death bubbled. "Nothing like a good day of sun and sand!"  
>Kid looked up from his magnifying glass, tweezers poised above his head of broccoli. "Father, Shinigami's of our status do not frolic about the beach. We have much more important duties to attend, and an image to maintain."<p>

Death stared at him.

"But… but I started the South Beach diet! I cut all my carbs! I stopped my midnight milk and cookies!"

Liz could see that he was getting worked up.

"Mmph." Patty said. Her face was gaining a bluish tinge.

Kid had resumed his plucking. "Father, you're being unreasonable."

Death stared.

"But… but!" He whined. "But Kid, I really wanna! I wanna go to the beach!"

"No buts," Kid said firmly. "No means no."

Death started to pound his fists on the table in frustration."

"None of that, thank you!" Kid yelled. "You'll march upstairs and sit in your room, and you'll think about what you've done."

"I haven't done anything, you're just being mean! I bet you'd let Liz and Patty go to the beach! You like them more than you like me!"

Kid rubbed his temples. "I like you all equally. Now can you please give me some peace and quiet? I'm trying to work here."

Death flounced off to his room "I'm going to have a beach party, and _none of you can come!"_

He doubled back, and stuck his head in the door. "Except you, Patty. You can come 'cause you liked my poem."

Everyone looked at Patty. She was passed out in her chair, Liz's hand still firmly around her mouth.

Death jabbed his thumb in Patty's direction. "What's wrong with her?"

Liz quickly took her hand off Patty's mouth and feigned innocence. "Damned if I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Marie did not like being single.

She knew that a lot of people enjoyed being single. They liked the alone time, they liked the flirting, the freedom.

Marie was not one of these people.

Sometimes, she did like going out with friends. She even liked that one song about being a single woman. It was liberating, and quite catchy. But more than anything else, she liked the thought of a big white reception, a large poofy dress, a string quartet, and a _husband._

So when Death stated that she would be staying with Stein, she did a mental cartwheel, pumped her fist in the air, and screamed several "fuck yeah's."

Not that Stein was a model husband. Oh, no. Stein was one hundred percent, certified, grade-A _batshit insane._

But she looked past the unfortunate head screw, the body stitching, the smoking, and the premature greying (which she hoped wasn't hereditary). And she looked straight to the abs.

She hoped those _were_ hereditary.

Alas, to her dismay, Stein did not share the same womanising traits that his old partner, Spirit, did. In fact, she was sure that Stein held her in the same regard as the potted plant sitting on the windowsill. Or that used to sit on the windowsill, anyway. Marie had smashed it in a jealous rage when she saw Stein talking to it one day as part of an "experiment".

Yeah, right. She could practically see the 'come-hither" that plant was giving off. And everyone knew the household fern was the sluttiest plant in the plant kingdom.

She had prepared a list of tributes that a potential husband of hers should have, and tonight she would give Stein the third degree.

When Stein came home, he would see the awesome, romantic dinner she had planned. Then he would fall deeply in love with her, and they would run off into the sunset and have children with eyepatches and chiseled abs and psychotic tendencies.

Marie positioned herself at the head of the table, and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Marie began stabbing a steak knife into the table. Where was he? How dare he be late to this romantic gesture? When she saw him, she was going to rip open his-

The door creaked open. In a flash, Marie flew up and threw the knife behind her. There was a yowling noise. Evidently, she had hit Stein's cat, Mr. Fluffykins. Damn, that one was going to be hard to explain in the morning.

"Hello, honey!" she called, her voice several octaves higher.

"What did you just call me?"

"I said, hello, hubby!"

"_What?"_

"I said, hello, Stein!" _Nice save, Marie!_

"Oh, I guess I heard you wrong."

He walked into the dining room and looked at the table. "Marie, what _is_ that?"

He was referring to the large, frosted, white cake that covered a hefty portion of the table. "Is that a wedding cake?"

"Of course not, silly!" She giggled. "It's strange how your mind immediately thought it was a wedding cake!"

Stein scrunched up his face, peering at the top. "Is that _me?"_

On the top of the towering cake were two figurines. The man owing the bakery was very insistent that they did not have wedding figurines that had stitches or head screws, let alone eyepatches. So Marie had bought the basic versions and doctored them up with a felt pen.

"It could be," she said coquettishly. "How about I cut you a slice?"

Stein reached out and grabbed the groom figurine from the top, bit the head off and began to chew.

"Stein, that's not edible! It's made of plastic!"

He chewed. Swallowed. Took another bite.

"I know."

Marie blinked. Moving on, then.

"Stein," she began, "where do you see yourself in ten years?"

Stein chewed contemplatively. "I think it's be really cool if I, like, chopped off maybe a leg or an arm, then replaced it with robot parts. Then I could be a half-robot guy. Awesome, right?"

It was not what Marie had in mind. _All right, Marie. Just give him the benefit of the doubt, and keep going._

"You like children, right? I mean, you must if you're a teacher."

Stein had finished his figurine and had started on hers. He carefully wiped all traces of the icing, and took a bite.

"Oh, speaking of them, I did this thing the other day where I told them to fight to the death. Then I left, and when I came back it was like Lord of the Flies in there. I swear some of those kids would do anything for an A. Too bad no one killed Hiro, though. That kid is a total douche."

_I don't need to have children. They'll just make me fat,_ Marie thought desperately. Though she secretly agreed that someone should've killed Hiro. He _was_ a douche.

Time for the hard questions. "Stein, would you ever consider quitting smoking?"

Stein's face brightened. "Oh, that reminds me! Check this out!"

He fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lit it. Taking a long drag, he blew out a cloud of smoke, which solidified into the shape of a hand giving Marie the finger.

"Cool, huh?"

Marie wanted to cry.

Desperately, she asked the last and final question,

"Stein, would you ever consider getting married?"

Stein tipped his chair back on two legs and clasped his hands behind his head. "You know, I've been considering it."

Marie's head shot up. "Really?"

"Yup, I've been thinking of settling down. I know that I don't really seem like the domesticated type, but if Spirit can do it, there's no reason why I can't. He did cheat on his wife, I guess, and she left him, but…"

Marie hadn't been this excited since Vogue declared eyepatches the "must-have accessory" for 1989.

"So Marie, what do you think? Think Azusa will go for it?"

Marie blinked.

Stein would awake three days later, with a severe concussion and dried cake in his hair. He would have no recollection of what happened.

Marie stalked out of the room. Becoming a lesbian looked pretty good at the moment.


	3. Chapter 3

Soul was a patient kind of guy. He didn't mind when there was a long line at Deathbucks. Black Star was on a lengthy rant? No problem. Of course, he drew the line at Excalibur, but you can't really blame him for that.

The point was Soul was pretty easy-going. But dammit, he was hungry, and it was Maka's turn to cook, and _like hell he was going to break down and cook something on Maka's day._

He had had a long day. Being cool was not an easy task to do.

It required time, dedication, and extra moisturising at night to keep his skin looking fresh and youthful. Nothing said uncool like an uneven complexion.

Even his morning routine was a strict regime. Hair mussed just so. Sweater slouched at an appropriately. Headband (manband, he insisted) tipped at a rakish angle. Hands in his pockets, he would wink at his reflection in his mirror.

_Come at me, ladies._

But try as he might, Soul never gained that "it" factor. Girls never flocked around him. Christ, even Hiro got more ladies than he did, and Hiro wore an open button-down shirt. _With purple plaid pants._

All Soul had was a flat-chested, short-tempered meister with a short temper and a heavy book at the ready.

So all day Soul had hung around town in various spots. Behind the grocery stores, in the alleyway, near the park (he later realised that the park was a bad idea). All he gained for his efforts was a bite from an ill-tempered Doberman and frightened looks from mothers whose children were playing in the aforementioned park.

Was it too much to ask for a hot, delicious dinner after a long day of work? Evidently so. He swore on his abnormally sharp shark-like teeth that he would give Maka a stern talking to about the values of punctuality, respectfulness and-

SLAM.

Maka stood in the doorway, chest heaving, and eyes narrowed. She was, to put it elegantly, _pissed as shit._

Now, Soul knew enough to not make her angry. His brain screamed ABORT! ABORT! But his mouth had better ideas.

"Maka, where the hell were you? I've been waiting here for an hour!"

-Oh god oh god I can't stop talking-

"Do you even know what time it is? We always have dinner at seven!

-Oh god it's too late I'm riding this lecture straight to hell-

"I expected more from you, Maka, I really did."

But now Maka was getting that look in her eyes, that look that screamed that every male within a 5 mile radius better run if they ever wanted to continue on the family line. Soul swallowed. At least she wasn't holding a scythe.

Furious, Maka drew in a breath, and Soul braced himself.

Then she drew in another.

Then another.

Soul glanced up from where he was cowering. Dead god, he thought, horrified. She was crying.

This was worse than her chopping off his nuts.

Soon the crying turned into full-out sobbing, and Soul was _freaking the fuck out_. He inched closer

"Maka, what's wrong?" He asked tentatively.

There are people who look good crying, and people who look absolutely, one hundred percent terrible. Maka was the latter. Snot poured out of her nostrils in buckets. Tears streamed like waterfalls. Her whole body was wracked by huge, gasping sobs.

"I-I!" She tried. "I had the wuh-wuh-worst day!"

Soul nodded sagely, like he knew what was happening.

"My… My dad was so annoying and I'm so weak and my chest is small and I _missmymommy!"_

Soul kept nodding, for a lack of things to do.

"And I'm just so confused!"

"About what?" Soul asked.

"About Crona!" Maka cried. "Like, is he a _boy_ or a _girl_?"

"Judging by how emotional he is, I'd say he was a girl," Soul muttered.

It was if someone had started burning books right in front of Maka. Her tears disappeared and were replaced with pure, teenage-girl anger.

Soul swallowed. Take-out was looking pretty good right now.

"Because you're _so_ not emotional," she spat. She made her voice several octaves deeper. "I'm Soul Evans and I wear a headband and a woman's sweater and all I worry about is how cool I look!"

"How many times do I have to tell you, woman!" Soul barked. "It is a _man_-band."

"Whatever you say," Maka smirked. "I have a purse that matches it, maybe you'd like to borrow it sometime."

Soul secretly envied how women could use purses. Sitting on his wallet was very uncomfortable. He'd have to look into getting a satchel one of these days. Maybe something manly, rugged… Leather, perhaps?

Soul shook his head, trying to concentrate.

"Well, you have fat ankles!"

The fiery rampage of terror Maka was on was suddenly doused as if someone had thrown a bucket of water on it.

"You think I'm fat?" She whimpered.

Tears began to flow.

Backtrack man; backtrack like you've never backtracked before!

"I mean, they're very shapely ankles! Ankle-y ankles!"

God, at the rate she was going, the tears were going to fill up the room and they would drown. Also, the tears would totally cause the wallpaper to swell. That would be a bitch to fix.

"I'm so fat and weak!" She wailed. "My mom was totally more fit than me! And powerful! And prettier! With bigger boobs!"

"Well, you wouldn't really know, would you?" Soul reasoned. "I mean, you never really see her, right?"

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. Maka now resembled a geyser of tears.

Suddenly, something in Soul's head clicked. Of course! He should've known. Maka was probably having her period. He was reminded of the fateful day that Black Star had found Tsubaki's stash of tampons. They had spent many hours studying the object. What was the chord for? Where exactly did it go? How did it expand? A memorable day, indeed. Soul had even read the little piece of paper that came along in the box. I mean, he was pretty much an expert now. And Maka was experiencing…

"PMS!" He yelled.

Maka's head whipped around, "What did you say?"

"PMS!" He stated proudly. "Pre-menstrual Syndrome. That's why you're crying, and mad, and being such a huge bitch! Hell, it might even explain your fat ankles!"

Maka moved fast when she wanted to. So fast, in fact, that Soul didn't even see the book coming his way. But he felt it, of course.

Did he feel it.

From his position sprawled on the floor, he could hear Maka run into her room and slam the door. Groggily, he grabbed the edge of the table and pulled himself up. Take-out it was, then.

The front door opened again, and he heard the distinctive _tap-tap_ of Blair's high heels.

"Hey, Blair," he called over his shoulder. "I'd be careful, if I were you. Maka's on the rag and she's being a straight-up bitch."

One thing that piece of paper in the tampon box did not explain to Soul was that when females are close, their cycles can sync. So right before Blair's fist connected with the side of his face, he saw the same undeniable rage and fury that he saw in Maka's earlier.

Soul peeled himself off the floor again. Fuck take-out, he was going to Black Star's for the week.


End file.
